


The Scenic Route

by free_fishy



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Thorin gets lost, he has no sense of direction, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/free_fishy/pseuds/free_fishy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin gets lost on his way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scenic Route

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. I said I was working on this about a month ago and now it's done. I had a bit of an issue which is what took so long. I broke my foot in multiple places not too long ago, and the painkillers the doctors gave me made me all kinds of loopy. Apparently some part of my brain thought writing in that state was a good idea. When my head cleared up I reread what I had written and there was a lot of comparing Thorin to salmon, inappropriate jokes about ferrets, and Italian (my first language). 
> 
> So I think I fixed it all, but if you see anything about Thorin being "free like a salmon" or "like the magestic salmon" or anything about ferrets or anything that isn't English, please let me know.
> 
> This story actually got off easy, the Kili-centric on I'm working on ended up with pages of ramblings in Italian as well as more salmon references and ferret jokes. I also apparently deleted a good chuck of the story, so I'm trying to fix that. Hopefully I'll be able to post it soon.
> 
> When I first started writing this story I wanted it to be funny, but it didn't turn out that way, so sorry.

The sky turned purple as the sun set behind the mountains. The fading light reflected off the clouds turning them brilliant shades of orange and pink. In the small village at the base of the mountains, children still ran about the streets, playing as much as they could before the light faded completely. Their parents watched them while conversing in the cooling air, while shouts and giggles could be heard throughout the village. The only one who wasn't out enjoying the warm summer evening was the dwarf who worked hard at the anvil at the forge. He kept mostly to himself, only nodding in greeting to others and never stopping to make small talk. The villagers didn't mind his behavior, dwarves were a strange race and while they enjoyed the services he provided, they still felt uneasy about one of them spending so much time around their homes. Their children had been cautioned to stay away from the forge and the gruff dwarf who worked it unless a they were with their parents, and it was a warning the children took very seriously.

Inside the forge, the dwarf had just finished the sword he was working on. He put down his hammer and checked the sword over with a critical eye, searching for any imperfections that would need to be fixed before he left. Satisfied that his work was of the best quality, he put the sword away and opened a window, trying to let the heat escape as he cleaned and prepared to close up for the night. He cleaned thoroughly, ensuring every surface was wiped down and that the fires were completely put out and the ashes cold before he left. Yes, he had worked late and was eager to return home, but that was no reason to leave his forge in shambles or risk a fire.

The dwarf locked the forge for the night and turned to the path he knew would take him home. It was a long walk, taking an hour and a half to return home if he went quickly. He hoped his sister would still have some food left for him by the time he returned. Although she understood why he had to work so much, she was never happy when he arrived late in the night. Her sons, his nephews, would be asleep by the time he got home. They usually were, and they would still be sleeping when he left early in the morning. The dwarf knew he would have to take a day off soon to spend with his sister and her sons. He had beome sort of a surrogate father to them after their own father died fighting at Thorin's side, and they always got so excited to spend time with Uncle Thorin.

Thorin walked quickly up the path, nodding in reply to various polite greetings from the townspeople and pretending not to notice the curious stares he attracted from the children. He pretended not to notice and stayed lost in his own thoughts about his nephews. The older one, Fíli, would be turning twenty-four soon. He was still very young by dwarven standards but was still old enough to start learning how to behave properly as an heir of Durin. Thorin had no plans to remain living in the Blue Mountains for the rest of his days. One day he would return to his home and take back what was rightfully his.

He was out of the villiage now and the path he was on took a sharp turn to the mountain where he had made his temporary home before going over a small bridge. Looking up at the mountain, he saw that the sun had cast a bright orange light on the clouds that almost made it look as if the very mountain itself was aflame. Thorin's breath caught in his throat as he was overcome with memories of a very different mountain that was very much on fire. The feeling of helplessness while watching all he knew and and loved burn to ashes washed over him. He looked down quickly, focusing on the water flowing under the bridge to try to clear the memories, but he could still see his home burning.

He couldn't bear thinking about it anymore. Thorin turned away from the mountain and stepped off the path to follow the river instead of continuing home. A small lake was not too far upstream, hidden by the trees of the nearby forest, and Thorin knew that by the time he had finished washing himself that the sun will have set enough that he could continue going home withing being attacked by visions of the past. Hopefully arriving clean would placate his sister, Dís, enough that she would forget to be annoyed with how late he would arrive.

Throin arrived at the lake and shed his boots and clothing onto a nearby rock, partly so he would remember where he entered from. He slowly entered the lake, savoring how nice the cool water felt against his hot skin. He washed the sweat, dirt, and grime off of his skin and allowed the water to take it away. Stalling for time, he undid his braids. He place the beads on the bank, far enough away so they couldn't accidentally fall into the lake, then submerged himself in the water. He worked his hands through his hair, carefully untangling it. Washing his hair was one of his favorite simple pleasures. It had been ever since he was young and he and his younger brother, Frerin, would take turns washing and braiding the other's hair.

He lingered for a while, floating around in the water and enjoying the coolness of it after spending all day in the stifling heat of his forge. Eventually the fading light turned more to purple and Thorin pulled himself out of the lake. He rebraided his hair with well practiced hands and he waited to dry off enough to redress himself. Once he was dressed, Thorin left the lake and returned back to the path to continue his trek home.

After walking about thirty yards, Thorin came to a fork in the path that he never remembered being there before. He paused for only a moment before continuing on the right fork. He scolded himself internally for getting so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't paid enough attention as he travelled to the lake. At least that was easy to figure out. The mountain had been on his left when he walked towards the lake, so taking the right fork would keep him going in the correct direction. Stomach grumpling, he hurried down the path trying to get away from the trees before the dark of night completely fell.

Soon enough, the purplish light of dusk succumbed to the black of night, and Thorin was still wandering in the woods with nothing more than the light of the moon to guide him. It had become apparent that he should have turned left at the fork instead, so Thorin had doubled back long ago but was still unable to find his way back to the lake. He cursed as he tripped on a root that certainly wasn't there a moment ago. He landed hard of his forearms and felt the air get knocked out of him when he hit the ground.

He rolled on to his back, gasping for air, and was still, staring at the few stars that were visible through the trees. There were rumors of elves being seen in the forests around the blue mountains. Thorin had never seen one around, thank Mahal, but he didn't put it past them to use some sort of magic to ensure that any dwarf that tried to enter their woods got turned around. He climbed to his feet and raised his axe with a growl.

"Whatever game you're playing, it's not funny!" He roared into the darkness. He listened closely, elf footsteps were nearly silent and there was no way he would let them sneak up on him, but he heard only the soft call of an owl in the silence of the night. He stood very still for a few more minutes before slowly lowering his axe. He still held hit by his side, ready to use it if necessary. It was the only form of protection Thorin had. The village where he worked wasn't far enough from home for him to feel the need to carry many weapons or other supplies with him. He cursed his complacency now, wishing he had at least had a waterskin or some extra food rations with him.

The hunger pains were getting harder to ignore now, but he still tried to push them aside. There was no way he would return home in to any sort of warm welcome or food now, it was growing much too late. Thorin only hoped he would be able to return to the human village where he worked soon. Not only would that delay having to face his sister's wrath, but he also had a small apartment above the forge where he slept from time to time when there was a lot of work to be done. It wasn't ideal, but at least it was better than being surrounded by these cursed trees.

His father had once said that dwarves could never get lost. They always felt the pull of home in their hearts. They heard the mountains calling to them. Thorin remembed those words as he spun slowly in place. Nothing. Feeling foolish, he spun again, like some demented dancer. He kept turning until he found a direction that just felt right. He smiled and laughed low to himself and took long, confident strides forward. Three steps forward his face made contact with a hard, rough surface. He stumbled back as blood came trickling out of his nose. His left cheek stung as the air brushed across where he had scraped it. Thorin muttered under his breath, cursing the trees, the darkness, and especially the elves.

Someone would pay for this foul trick, Thorin would make sure of it. He wouldn't rest until he caught whoever was responsible. The dwarf turned back to the direction he was sure would lead him home and started walking more carefully. He trudged ahead blindly with his hands out in front of him so he didn't make a bigger fool of himself by walking face first into another tree.

Thorin didn't know how far he walked, he didn't know how much time had passed; it could have been minutes or it could have been years. All he knew was that he wasn't getting any closer to finding his was out of the forest. It seemed that the best option for him right now was to wait until sunrise and make his way out while it was light. Dwalin had tried to teach him some useful information a few years ago on how to find your way if you get lost. The warrior had learned some tricks from the men and rangers that he came across from time to time. It was information that Thorin had barely listened to at the time, but now he was sure he could recall it in the morning after he had gotten some sleep. With the decision made, Thorin found a large tree slightly off the path that would make good cover for the night. He sat with his back against it and his axe in one hand and soon fell into an uneasy slumber.

It seemed like only moments later that Thorin awoke with a pounding headache. He was vaguely aware that he was lying on the ground instead of sitting against a tree. Not only lying on the ground but on a rock, too, based upon the ache in his back. There was a strange weight upon his chest, moved his arms up, trying to push it away, but found only air. He opened his eyes, then immediately squeezed them shut due to the blinding sunlight. He slowly, cautiously opened them again. The sunlight felt as if it were buring his retinas, but he forced his eyes to remain open until they adjusted. He looked around, trying to get a sense of the area while his weary mind worked to become fully awake and aware. The dense green canopy overhead gave few clues to the exact time of day. Based upon the light flitering down Thorin guessed it was mid-morning. Much later than he had hope to wake up.

Thorin groaned and rolled to his side. He felt his back protest lightly at the movement, but at least now he was off of that stupid rock. He continued to turn until he heard a loud thud and found himself face to face with a deathly sharp blade. He let out a shriek - battle cry, his mind corrected - and sprung to his feet, reaching to his side to grab his axe. There was nothing there. He kept grabbing for it while carefully observing the area for any threat. It seemed to be clear of any other living creature. Breathing slowly to try to calm himself, Thorin finally looked down to the weapon that had given him such a fright. His eyes widened when he recognized it, and he quickly looked down to his side where his axe should be. He walked over, picked up the weapon, and placed it back at his side where it belonged, thanking Mahal the whole time that no one had been around to see the King-under-the-mountain, frighted by his own axe. 

Now that Thorin had cleared up that misunderstanding, he had to decide what to do next. He turned slowly in place, taking in every detail he could of his current location. There wasn't much to see: trees, bushes, dirt, and one very evil turtle right where he had been laying. Thorin glared at the turtle for a moment before figuring out his next move. He had to get out of the forest, that was for certain. Once he got out, he would have to see where he was exactly. He still didn't know if he would return to his family in Ered Luin or head back to his forge in the village. The forge made the most sense, that way he could get some work done and also clean up so Dís would never know that he had gotten lost. 

No, not lost. He was a king, and king's don't get lost. He was simply taking his time and enjoying nature. No, that would never work. He enjoyed his forge and the mines and halls of Erebor. He enjoyed spending time with his family and hunting with his friends, but never the scenery. He was a dwarf, not a foolish elf, Thorin thought with a grimace. There was no beauty or enjoyment to be found in these dense trees with their roots that worked to trip unsuspecting travellers. There was certainly no enjoyment in rocks in the forest that made you lay on them only to wake with a sore, stiff back! No, he was taking the scenic route. Exploring what lay around Ered Luin but finding no enjoyment in it at all. Yes, that would work. Of course, these explanations were only needed if anyone found out about his current situation. 

Thorin thought back to everything he knew about finding his way in the wild. Trying to retrace his steps was out, after all that stumbling around in the darkness Thorin had no idea how he got to where he was. Using the sun as a navigational tool was another dead end there was no way to tell where it was in the sky. Besides that, Thorin could never remember which way the sun was supposed to rise. There was no real need to know that when you lived under the ground. The moss could help. Dwalin had once said that moss always grew on the north side of the trees, so all he had to do was find some moss. North would certainly take him back to the village, then he could go to his forge and pretend that nothing ever happened.

Thorin looked around at the trees. He was hungry, thirsty, and felt like he had the biggest hangover ever. With any hope, he would make it back before the markets closed. He spotted moss on a tree not too far ahead of him. He walked over to it and examined the growth. The moss grew completely around the trunk. Well, that was helpful. Thorin used his fingers to probe at the moss gently, there was a side where it seemed a little thicker than the rest. Since he had little else to go on, he decided to take a chance and head in that direction.

He walked for hours, never changing his course. The air grew hotter as the day went on, and although the trees sheltered him from the sun's rays, they did little to disperse the heat. Sweat was running down his body and dampening his clothing. The dwarf stumbled more often as time went on, each time turning back to glare at the offending rock or root. There were times that he could see nothing that had caused him to trip and tried to explain it away as a simple trick of the elves. As time went on, he couldn't surpress the small bit of fear that crept into his head when he tripped again over the air and stumbled into a tree to help him keep his footing.

His stomach had stopped grumbling long ago. Instead, it felt as if it had turned on him and was now trying to consume itself. Thorin was no stranger to hunger, life in exile had made him familiar with the sensation. The food that was available always went first to his nephews then to his sister. Only after they had eaten their fill, and while dodging his older nephew's questions and curious eyes, would Thorin take what was left. Now, he kept his eyes open for any small game he could catch and eat.

He approached a fallen tree and decided to rest for a moment. He sat heavily on it and slumped forward to cradle his head in his hands. He felt as if he was making no progress at all. There was no possible way he had travelled this far in the dark. Thorin's shoulders heaved as he tried to calm himself and silence his thoughts. Thinking and worrying did nothing but make his head throb worse. More than food, the dwarf knew he had to find water. The day before he had been sweating in a hot forge all day, and today he was continuing to sweat as he wandered about. As time went by his headache had steadily worsened. Thorin knew that if he didn't find his way out soon, or at least find something to drink, then he probably wouldn't last too much longer.

With that thought in mind he quickly returned to his feet, swaying a little at the headrush from standing so fast, and continued walking. The light was beginning to dim and Thorin couldn't bear the though of spending another night in the forest. A jolt of fear forced him to walk faster even while the world seemed to be spinning around him. The ground in front of him seemed to incline slightly he used his axe as a walking stick, helping him support his weight and continue moving. 

He made slow progress as the day turned to night. Once again, he found himself unable to see in the light of the stars and wisely chose to stay where he was. He had learned his lesson the night before, and still had the scratches on his face to prove it. In the distance, he heard the sound of voices. They were too far away to distinguish words and for a moment, Throin thought about calling out and hoping that someone would hear, but quickly squashed that thought. There had been a disturbing number of orc patrols seen in the area, and the last thing the dwarf needed in his current state was to catch the attention of one of them. = Instead, he chose to sit in the roots of a large nearby tree. The roots cradled him close to the trunk while the brush around it hid him from view. He held his axe at the ready again and kept a watchful eye out. The voices faded, but the dwarf didn't move, he would not give away his position. He eyelids grew heavier until, against his will, he eventually drifted into an uneasy slumber.

Thorin awoke at dawn. The light was beginning to filter through the trees above. He stood slowly and surveyed the area he was in. There was no sign of orcs, no sign that they had even come close to his hiding spot. He stood still for a moment, trying to blink away the spots in his vision. He continued up the steady incline, leaning heavily on his axe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Thorin knew that if he didn't find civilization, or at least food and water, today then he would most likely never return home.The day grew hotter as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Throin began to feel like he was slowly being cooked by the heat. His skin remained dry in the summer heat. He hardly noticed the forest growing less dense as he continued. His mind was entirely focused on finding water. His entire body felt heavy, like it was made from stone. His head was hanging, watching his feet as they continued to move too slowly up the hill. In his mind, he thought he could hear the voices from last night, but he knew that was just wishful thinking.

When he raised his head again to look around at his surroundings, the dwarf was surprised to find the trees far behind him. He smiled slightly at least he wouldn't die in that labyrinth. He continued walking, slowing slightly as the terrain grew rougher under his feet. He could feel himself sliding a little on the loose rocks he walked on. 

He knew he was bound to lose his footing eventually, but didn't expect it to be so painful. He raised his axe to take another step when a wave of dizziness overcame him. His axe fell off to the side as his feet slid out from under him. Thorin rolled backwards down the hill for a few feet before he came to an abrupt stop flat on his back. He groaned and he rolled gently to the right. He lay on his side for a few moments, trying to regain his bearing.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the most beautiful sight ever. A puddle, right next to him. He pushed himself and crawled to the puddle. He took a moment to thank Mahal for saving him, then lowered his head tot he liquid. Just before his lips hit the liquid, a strong, foul smell filled his nose. Thorin pushed himself away, gagging. He would rather die than drink that vile waste.

Thorin laid on the ground for a few minutes. He knew he had to move, but he didn't have the strength to get up. He heard heavy footsteps approaching. The dwarf reached out to try to grab his axe. He didn't know what had found him, but he wouldn't die without at least attempting to fight. his weapon to too far out of reach, so instead the dwarf took a deep breath and prepared himself. A blurry shape was coming closer. He hoped his ancestors would forgive him for his failures. He hoped his sister and nephews would survive without him. He sent a silent apology to them. He would face his fate like a King. He would not beg. He would-

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked. Thorin blinked. He knew that voice. He forced his eyes to focus as a very familiar dwarf knelt next to him. 

"Dís?" He sat up groaning as the motion made his head throb.= His sister rolled her eyes and helped his sit. "Thorin?" she mocked. She frowned when she felt the heat radiating off of his dry skin. Her eyes, however, were soft and worried. "Where have you been, brother?" she asked.

"It was the elves," he said. His voice sounded unnaturally raspy. 

"Elves?" Dís asked doubtfully. She handed Thorin her waterskin and he drank from it greedily.

"Aye," he said once he had drank enough for the moment. "They got me turned around in the woods."

"Right," Dís replied. She stood up and reached down to he brother. He grabbed he arm and was slowly lifted to his feet. "Would you like to go home now or would you like to go hunt down these elves?"

"I-" Thorin started, he shut his mouth as a though came to him, "the forge." Seeing his sister standing there, he realized how long it had been since he had worked. If he didn't work then his nephews didn't get fed.

"Dwalin's there," Dís said, sensing his distress. She let go of his arm and bent to retrieve his fallen axe. "I'll hold onto this." She said when Thorin reached out to take it. "Dwalin went with me when you didn't return home." She continued, "He's keeping things going for now."

Thorin nodded sliently as the continued walking. "How did you find me?"

Dís laughed at the question, "It wasn't that hard. You've never managed to get too lo- I mean- the elves didn't turn you around too much."

Thorin shook his head slowly, "I wasn't lost."

"No, of course not. Our brave king would never get lost. That must have been some other dwarf that went to Dale and ended up in the middle of Greenwood." Her eyes twinkled.

"I wasn't lost," Thorin repeated.

"Right," his sister agreed, "Not lost. Tell me Thorin," she said as they neared a bend, "Why did you decide to take a nap right there then?" They rounded the bend and Thorin's eyes widened when as he took in the view of his home, "After all," she contintued with laughter in her voice, "You were only a ten minute walk from home."

"Uncle Thorin!" That was the only warning he had before two young dwarves were pressed against him. He held his nephews close for a minute before stepping back and looked at them.

"Fíli, Kíli," Dís said, "Leave your uncle alone for now."

"But Ma-"

"-you said-"

"-Uncle would play-"

"-when he got unlost." They said. Thorin and Dís looked back and forth from Fíli to Kíli as they spoke. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head still hurt too much to deal with this right now.

"I was NOT lost!" He stated.

"No Kí, Kings don't get lost, right Uncle?" Fíli asked seriously. Kíli stuck his fist in his mouth to try to muffle his laughs. Thorin could see a hint of teasing in his eldest nephew's blue eyes and sighed softly.

"That's right." He sagged slightly. 

"Are you hungry?" Dís asked suddenly. "It's lunchtime boys, go get cleaned up." Thorin looked at his sister gratefully as her sons ran off to clean themselves up.

"Thank you," he said. 

His sister raised her eyebrow at him, "Thank you," she replied, giggling at the confusion on Thorin's face, "After all, you'll be the one entertaining them for the next few days." Thorin groaned. Dís reached out and grasped his arm again, "Come now brother, I know you're hungry. Just stay close, I wouldn't want you getting lost on the way to the kitchen now."

Thorin growled at his sister as she pulled him to their home, "I was NOT lost!"

She simply laughed in reply. As Thorin allowed he to drag him forward, he took a moment and thanked Mahal that he was once again safe and in the comfort of his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! English isn't my first language and any mistakes are my own. But, if you seen any spelling/grammar issues please let me know. 
> 
> Thank you all! Now back to try to finish the Kili-centric story.


End file.
